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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203403">An Explosive Situation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01'>danceswithhamsters01</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reddit Prompts [102]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidents, Alchemy, Gen, Idiot in the lab, Laboratories</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:15:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt from r/dragonage.<br/>Inspired by:<br/>Prompt 2:  broken glass, small feet, blue flowers.</p><p>Pierre, a student alchemist who was sent to Skyhold, pays the price for being inattentive.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Lavellan/Josephine Montilyet (background)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Reddit Prompts [102]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1153856</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Explosive Situation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“2 parts blood lotus, 1 scoop each of dried and ground dawn lotus and ghoul’s beard, 3 sprigs of vandal aria,” Pierre murmured to himself.</p><p>He turned his eyes away from the book laying open on the stand and bent over the mortar and pestle on the table in front of him. He hummed a ditty from the play “The Many Lives and Loves of Emperor Xavier.” After he’d finished the stanza about the many mistresses the monarch had and begun the one about his gentleman paramours, he found the herbs to be mixed and mashed enough into a uniform pulp. He turned his eyes back to the book. He narrowed his eyes, searching for where he’d left off.</p><p>“A pinch of dehydrated deep mushroom, 2 parts rashvine?”</p><p>He pursed his lips. He didn’t recall rashvine being a part of any remedies he knew of off-hand. Then again, he was just a student and the book was the expert, no? In went the deep mushroom and rashvine, destined to be mashed and mixed with the other herbs. He poured in five measures of concentrator agent the formula called for… or was it six? With a shrug, he added the extra measure just to be safe. He double-checked, once again hunting for his place on the page.</p><p>“Bring mixture to a rolling boil. Add dragonthorn, taking care to keep thorns intact. Pour into containers. Allow to cool. Add one scoop dried felandaris, half a measure of corrupter agent per vial, cork--”</p><p>“Pierre?” a hurried voice asked.</p><p>He looked away from his book for a moment before pouring the mixture into an iron pot and hanging it over the fire in the hearth. He beheld a young elven woman with flaxen hair and simply crafted woolen attire. “Yes? What is it, Cosette?”</p><p>“Madame de Fer will require more powdered Crystal Grace when she returns with the Inquisitor,” the woman replied.</p><p>The apprentice alchemist nodded. “She will have it. I know where Adan keeps it stored. When will she be returning?”</p><p>Cosette smiled. “After supper, at earliest. More than likely, not until after tomorrow morning, however. You know how the Herald likes to stop and give aid and comfort to the locals.”</p><p>“Ah. Have you any free time, ma cherie?” he asked.</p><p>“As a matter of fact, I do. They won’t be needing me until it’s time to start making supper,” she purred.</p><p>He wrapped his arms around her waist after she drew near, smiling like a cat who found an unguarded saucer of cream. Surely, he could spare a little time while waiting for his batch to boil?</p><p>Pierre returned to the laboratory a while later with a spring in his step and rosy lip-prints covering his face. <em>Now, where was I? </em>He grinned as he caught sight of the pot hanging in the hearth bubbling frantically. He spared a quick glance at the recipe book still laying open to the page he’d left it at. After fetching the vials and a handful of corks, he made ready with the other ingredients.</p><p>“Crushed dragonsthorn, a sprig of felandaris per bottle, one measure of corruptor agent per bottle…” He paused for a moment before reaching for the funnel to pour the now-cooled mixture into the vials. <em>This </em><em>is </em><em>possibly the most strange poultice I’ve ever heard of, </em>he thought. With a shrug, he went on to divvy up the mixture evenly between ten bottles. Peering into the book, he found the last step.</p><p>“Cork and shake vigorously.” He pressed a cylinder of cork into one vial, took it into his hand, and began shaking it.</p><p>---</p><p>Josephine felt her seat – and everything else in her office – shake as she heard an echoing boom that was far too close for comfort. Smelling smoke, she raced out into the grand hall. She screamed in shock to see smoke billowing out from the door leading to the Undercroft. To their credit, some of the troops were already setting up a bucket brigade and hustling water toward the flames while others were escorting civilians away from the blaze. A tug on her hand snapped her out of her momentary terror.</p><p>“Ambassador Montilyet, come this way!” A dwarven woman in a scout’s uniform tugged on her hand again. “We must get you to safety!”</p><p>Lady Montilyet allowed the scout to lead her away. Despite how tiny the scout’s feet were, they made a quick journey to the practice yard outside, next to the tavern. The taller woman found herself short of breath from keeping up with her rescuer. After the scout left, no doubt to rescue another bewildered or frightened person, Josephine squinted, attempting to assess the damage.</p><p>“Makers breath, what has happened?” Cassandra asked as she caught sight of the Antivan. “Were we attacked?”</p><p>---</p><p>Groaning, Pierre slowly opened his eyes. Why was everything blurry? Wait. Why couldn’t he feel his left hand? What was going on?! He sat up with a start, only to feel a small warm hand gently press him back down. Wait? Why was he on a bed? Where was he? He had to blink several times to clear away the gunk in his eyes and squinted. When his vision finally came into something close to focus, he saw a red-headed elven woman with russet skin and lilac eyes sitting on the side of the bed, looking him over with concern. She had a deep green swirling tattoo that surrounded her left eye.</p><p>“Your Worship!”</p><p>“Easy now, man,” the woman said. “You’ve been out a couple of days, from what I’ve been told. Did you see anyone before the attack?”</p><p>“What attack, m’lady?”</p><p>“Whoever it was that set off a bomb in the Undercroft. Did you see anyone? Our investigators only found bits of broken bloodied glass. And charred equipment, of course.”</p><p><em>Set off a bomb in the…? Oh dear. </em>He looked away, catching sight of a vase full of small blue flowers. Hyacinths, Cosette’s favorite. Had she been by?</p><p>“Take your time. You’ve been through something awful,” Inquisitor Lavellan said softly, reminding him of her presence.</p><p>Pierre’s stomach dropped to his feet. His memories came screaming back to him. “Actually, Your Worship, we were not attacked.”</p><p>---</p><p>A rapping at her door pulled Josephine from her thoughts. Given the hour, with both moons high in the sky, it was unlikely to be any of the scouts or messengers, therefore, she felt no need to quickly pull back her hair, which she’d just freed from its customary bun and braids. Opening the door revealed an elf with smiling lilac eyes and an unruly mop of auburn curls.</p><p>“The mystery has been solved,” Zira offered with a grin.</p><p>The Antivan tilted her head to the side with a questioning expression before quickly remembering her manners and beckoning her beloved to enter her quarters. “Truly?”</p><p>“You know of the young man who’d been injured in the Undercroft?”</p><p>“Pierre de Lac Rouge? He’d been sent here along with the Apothecary, Mistress Elan. What of him? Did he have any useful information?”</p><p>“The poor thing has his guts twisted up in knots. There was no attack. He’d made a mistake while performing his duties,” Zira replied.</p><p>“What sort of mistake?”</p><p>“Apparently, he misread a formula <em>and</em> sneaked off to canoodle with his sweetheart. He accidentally made incendiary grenades instead of healing poultices,” the elven woman answered.</p><p>Josephine sank into her seat. “What sort of fool makes that kind of mistake?”</p><p>“I think he’s learned from it. And suffered enough. Madame de Fer is having him packed off to Val Royeaux first thing in the morning, now that she knows he’ll survive. With luck, the healers at what remains of the Circle will be able to save his hand.”</p><p>“Oh, this is going to take many favors to fix and make right. We’ll need to get a stonemason to oversee the repairs, replace the destroyed crafting tools and supplies, find a suitable quarry to--” Josephine rose to her feet and began pacing.</p><p>“Josie.”</p><p>She stopped in her tracks. “Yes, amora?”</p><p>“It can wait until morning. Come here,” Zira opened her arms and wrapped them around the taller woman. “I’m glad you’re safe. I was worried about you. When I saw the damage this morning while we were coming up the pass leading to the gate-- well, I think that was the fastest I’ve ever made a steed run.”</p>
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